


Soldier, Poet, King

by MutinousSeagulls



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Callum Needs a Hug (The Dragon Prince), Gen, Soren Needs a Hug (The Dragon Prince)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MutinousSeagulls/pseuds/MutinousSeagulls
Summary: there will come a soldierwho carries a mighty swordhe will tear your city downo lei o lai o lordorthree drabbles centered around life after the events at the storm spire.
Relationships: Callum & Ezran & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Ezran (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Rayla & Soren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	1. Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> this one started off as a simple "oh, soren is gonna be head of the royal guard!!" and quickly turned into angst so i'm sorry. can someone pls give soren a hug? i just want my son to be happy

**The night air was cold and frigid against Soren’s skin,** the mid-autumn chill promising the fast approach of winter. His stance was unwavering, however, at his post on the king’s balcony.

Why Prince- no. King Ezran had entrusted him with the duty of being his personal guard, Soren would possibly never know.

He could see the entire capital city from his perch by the large double doors, bright lights drifting through the air even in the dead of night. He was aware of the moon up above, so close to reaching its full appearance. He briefly wondered if Rayla would be able to activate her cool shadowy form at times like this, when the moon wasn’t yet full.

As if sensing his thoughts, a figure appeared by his side, the form of a young girl falling down beside him from the rooftop. Her nightly rounds usually passed by his post, it wasn’t surprising when she decided to stop by anymore.

Soren didn’t say anything at her sudden presence, simply nodded in her direction before going back to gaze over the city. She would stay for a few moments, perhaps slip into the king’s chamber to check up on Ezran, before once again being on her way to Callum’s side. Though she wasn’t technically a part of the royal guard, every time the elf visited Katolis she joined in on the patrols, especially at night.

_ There is still unrest in the human kingdoms, _ was her excuse,  _ Viren murdered multiple monarchs, it’s not unlikely that one of them would try to seek revenge. _

That was Rayla. Always cautious, and loyal to a fault.

It occurred to him that the two of them had never had a real, full-length fight. During the period of time when he was sent to hunt down the princes, their battles had always been cut short. They’d never known who would win. Maybe he could ask her to spar with him on his next day off.

Soren had the distinct feeling that it would be Rayla who claimed victory. While Soren was all muscles and brute strength, Rayla used her head. She was lean and quick, and could probably take him out given the correct resources.

Maybe he should learn a bit from her fighting style. Combining elven techniques with what he already knew couldn’t be anything but beneficial.

Before he had any time to ask the elf any of the questions on his mind, she was gone.

Dang it. He didn’t even get to ask her about the not-so-secret forbidden romance between her and Callum.

The moon was high in the sky. It was a few hours until dawn. Marcos would be here to take his place before long, and he’d be able to go back to his room and sleep.

The loneliness always seemed to creep in at this time of the night, hitting with a sudden intensity that tore through his chest and up through his throat, choking him in a deathly hold. Perhaps it was because of how tired he’d been that day. He’d woken up early that morning, his mind turning on him and relentlessly repeating a singular scene, the image of a sword impaling the chest of a familiar mage, blood slowly seeping from the unexpected wound, pooling from his mouth and dribbling down his chin until it filled his vision drowned out any other sense.

It hadn’t been real.

Yet the betrayal in Claudia’s eyes was.

The frequent dreams just loved to remind him of that.

He hadn’t seen her since then. Not since that fateful battle that ended the war between Xadia and the human kingdoms. It’d been over a year since then, and he still had no idea where his sister was.

Viren was dead. That was all the information that had reached him regarding the whereabouts of his family.

There were often times when he’d find himself laughing at something, then turning to say whatever joke he might’ve thought up and realizing there was no one beside him. An empty place that had usually been filled by his younger sister.

Once, he would’ve gladly sacrificed his life and happiness for her. Now, it hurt to realize that he wasn’t sure.

They’d been best friends, inseparable. No matter what happened, they’d be together. They spoke in their own, distinct languages that confused those around them. There was a time that he’d tell her everything, and she’d share her deepest secrets with him.

It’d never be like that again.

He’d chosen his side. He made his own choice, and had lost his sister because of it.

Marcos said nothing as he appeared, and Soren left quietly, careful not to wake the slumbering king. The child that rested in a bed way too big for his small body.

Bait was awake, his glow soft and his eyes following Soren, his gaze felt like a knife in his back.

The stone halls were quiet, empty.

His room wasn’t far from the king’s, with his residence being moved to the quarters that rested right below the royal chambers after he’d been promoted to Ezran’s guard.

It was far nicer than the one he’d inhabited before, yet it was empty. His old room had been a mess, filled with dirty laundry and the occasional paper or book that Claudia had forgotten. They’d been returned to the library after his return. All of his sister’s possessions had been collected and stored away as evidence of Viren’s treason. His current residence was as pristine and perfect as the day he'd moved in.  


He’d given her things up without complaint.

He’d been praised as a hero for his actions at the storm spire.

His sister and father had been named traitors.

His door shut behind him with a soft click, and he sluggishly undid the latches on his armor, letting the metal fall to the old rug that sat on his floor. He knew that he should change out of the padded clothing that rested under his armor, he knew that he should go into his bathroom and wash the day away before sleeping. He had a shift at noon the next day.

It was all Soren could do to crawl into his bed before the tears overtook him.


	2. Poet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there will come a poet  
> whose weapon is his words  
> he will slay you with his tongue  
> o lei o lai o lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is long overdue lol

Callum couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten a full night of sleep.

Papers covered in runes were spread out around him, covering the desk and floor. It was a mess of drying ink and pencil shavings. The dim lightning flashes that filtered in through the windows did little to illuminate the spells, and firelight was the only thing that made anything he wrote legible.

The door to the adjoining rooms was left wide open, the clutter abruptly stopping several feet before the door. The other room was completely spotless, with clean floors that hadn’t been touched by anything except the occasional maid sweeping up dust, and the sheets folded perfectly against the bed frame.

The walls were void of any drawings or pictures, and the window drapes had been drawn shut.

Callum didn’t know why he still kept the door open. It wasn’t as if anyone was ever in there. It was just a door to an empty, dark room.

He tore his eyes away from it, instead focusing back on the book in his hands. Carefully committing each rune to memory as quickly as his lagging, sleep-deprived head allowed.

Deep down, he knew that he should probably rest. He had to get up early tomorrow, there were important meetings to attend. He was still technically a part of the royal family.

His little brother was now king.

That was a strange thought, no matter how long it’d been, he could never seem to get used to it.

Ezran, the small child who would sneak into the kitchens through hidden passageways with his pet glowtoad to steal pastries, was now the leader of a kingdom.

It took Callum a moment to realize that he’d painted the wrong rune onto his paper.

The long nights of insomnia were finally getting to him, it would seem.

There was another flash of lighting from the window, the sound of thunder shooting through the castle. A wet page slipped off of the desk to join the growing pile on the ground, the black ink staining the papers beneath it. Callum couldn’t remember when he last cleaned up his room.

The pieces of laundry and meaningless clutter had long been replaced with notes and spells. The drawings on his walls were covered by research, diagrams of casting circles, and lists of required steps for the more complex magic procedures.

Fire from the small candle on his desk flickered, and Callum only then realized how low it had burned. White wax was dripping over the tray and pooling along the edges. The light was nothing more than a tiny orb of flame.

His door squealed slightly, the hinges old and worn.

“Callum?”

It took him a moment to realize that no, he wasn’t imagining the sudden presence behind him. There, in the edge of his blurred, sleep-deprived vision was a boy, a glowtoad wrapped into his arms.

“Why are you still up, Ez?” Callum heard himself asking, although he knew that, in a more alert state the answer would’ve been all too obvious.

“The rain woke me up.”

Callum placed his paintbrush next to the inkwell, moving to stand from his desk, “You shouldn’t be here, there aren’t any guards.”

“I followed a secret hallway,” Ezran explained.

Callum was suddenly all too aware of how small he seemed to look, wearing the fancy sleep robes that were obviously too large for him.

“Can I sleep in here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

Callum couldn’t say no. He’d never been able to, no matter how logical and well-rested he’d been in the previous instances.

His gaze drifted over to his bed, an unmade mess that was currently covered in weeks worth of discarded books and research notes.

“I don’t think my bed is exactly fit for a king at this moment in time?”

Ezran grew silent for a long minute. Then, in a small voice that cut through the humid air— “I don’t mind”.

Callum forced back a yawn as he stood, trying to desperately blink away the spots that filled his vision and force the fuzz in his brain down. Carefully stepping over the mess of paper, he began haphazardly removing the clutter from the bed. He was just now noticing the dried bits of paint and ink that clung to the sheets. He’d have to have them washed soon — though he doubted that it’d make any difference. The damage was done.

“You could always go to the bed in your old room? It’d probably be more comfortable than this.”

Ezran simply shook his head, crawling into the mess of tangled blankets and paper, setting bait down on the pillows as he pulled the sheets over himself.

Sighing, Callum went to his desk and blew out the candle, enveloping the wreck of a room in darkness. He was surprised at the sudden exhaustion that began to overwhelm him at the lack of firelight.

God, when was the last time he’d actually slept?

Making his way back to the bed, he tried to ignore the way the countless papers stuck to his feet, the feeling of various inks and paint that had once been used for art now being utilized for magic.

This was what he’d wanted. This was the life that was more befitting to him.

Then why did everything feel so empty now?

He laid his body down on one side of the bed, suddenly all too aware of how quiet it was. Aside from the pattern of rain and the occasional echo of thunder, everything was silent. It was the complete opposite to how it had been while traveling to Xadia. Back when they had been oblivious to the fate of their father and the kingdom. Back when things were so painfully simple.

He listened as the breathing beside him slowed, evening out alongside the consistent rain.

It had been a night like this, he realized suddenly.

It had been storming during their final night together in these rooms, back before they’d been aware of the assassins. Back before Ezran was to inherit the crown.

Back when they were allowed to simply be kids.

Now, as the sweet relief of sleep slowly crept upon his conscious, he couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever get to feel that sweet ignorance ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this thinking it'd be a cool set of one-shots imagining life after season three but now it's all just angst,, oof
> 
> also, friendly reminder that the stuff with aaron ehasz is going on. i highly encourage everyone to go and research what is happening.
> 
> believe victims.
> 
> https://twitter.com/riseofkyoshi/status/1273852150024675328?s=20

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for any typos/grammar mistakes, i wrote this in the middle of the night in a sleep-deprived state lol


End file.
